After Sappho


23

Death, does thou lie?
What lies beyond the breath
No bright reversion shalt

Thou gain, given a lifetime of faith
Death, be not so cold
After you, what can remain?

An extinction of what was once
A company of many friends
Or loneliness dies to itself

To be reborn in someone else
There was a time to wander here
To think of life’s empowerment

To learn, and laugh, and love
For some mortal months
Death, take me, subdue my story

With the ending fit for all hearts
It does not matter how we die
We shall die, and that’s art

It’s poetry to die and wonder
Thou bringest all endings here
Here to a universe of expanding light

With only time to gather or pluck
The shortest quivering sentiment
Of what it meant to live.

All Souls Of Those I loved have been translated


25

I’ve been to the face of death
A sliding away from oneself
She kissed my cheeks and allowed
Me to live a while longer here
I’ve been to the edge of something deep
For which there is no tag, no shelf
The very end of suffering
That in itself, is not a bad thing
I do not dread the moment I escape this life
Perhaps it will even be a good experience
The unknown is what we fear
The timeless roses have maybe
A brighter hue on the other side?
Perhaps the sweetness of life
Can be better appreciate from there?
Above the wall of toil a slender branch
Is blooming, call it what you will
A strange kind of music, with
No need for mortal food, no searching
For belonging, no puzzling over
The injustice of all human brutality
I’ve seen the face of death and remarked
That her cloud-rimmed eyes were
Shining like the night, not unlike stars
And there was an alien freedom in her embrace.

26

Photo Courtesy:
1. http://www.deviantart.com/art/Melaelancholy-488208776
2. http://www.deviantart.com/art/One-photo-of-timelapse-488209194

Treatise on How to Pray


75

When I pray
I speak with my heart’s
Constant Guest
God the host of the galaxy

I measure success differently
I compete with myself
In how well I can encompass others
Rejoice with their spirits

When I pray
I no longer pray for myself
But I seek to expand my heart’s natural
Limits, to enlighten its foundations

Very few seekers can afford
Two Lines to Heaven from their chi
One, from their soul’s unshakable trust
Two, from their spirit’s breath of devotion

Hope has no real intention
But to remind us to be connected
I have a meditation-appointment
With God, in small hours of morning

In late hours of the night
I let in the higher worlds
To swarm in me beyond my imagination
One simple truth to feel alive:

You are bound to know God’s will
If you allow God to become real to you.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Merry-Christmas-13462097

Prayer Untitled


35

Prayer is the last response
Of presence when life is denied
So to remain quiet

Is sometimes next to God’s ear
Watching and listening
The last apparatus

Of apparent prosperity
For to own is not permanent
Anything can be taken away

A spirit-diamond trance
Can problem solve
The symmetry of misfortune

Prayer is the last response
Of an unconditional force of happiness
Too infinite is consequence

For us to seize destiny by the throat
Prayer is the easiest sport
When our slow capacities deploy

A crude response to vivid nature
So to act is not always wise
Then do we notice things overlooked

Our mind italicized by light
That darkness be prerequisite
To spirit’s final room

As narrow time’s jostle between
What we once called life & death
Bent to water, till we died

Prayer is the last response
When belief no longer regulates
The perception of our undue significance.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Skyfall-403075862

For Saints Who Plea in my Little Ears


18

Now of the delightful Court of Heaven
I sign intermittent, love letters
To the Universe, to the fragrant memory
Of the holy life, sacred feeling –

I kiss the shinning joyous martydom
Of brief mortality, or the moon
Or my heart, the blue stained glass
Of experience, little blue reflections

Of dreams, that passed like hours of doom
That I love without conscience
To uplift my time in transparency
The oceans more blue than eternity

Made in the manner of Japanese
Accepting all requests, all signs
Of the most exquisite temperament
When I this morning made my way

I sigh intermittent, deep breaths
For hope and faith, as wearing a blue gown.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/New-day-III-399733723

The Kerouac Summer


68

It’s the eternal summer
I stretch out on the shore
And think of you
On the coasts of seas
I have been a fish, I have been a shell
And I followed centuries to this

It’s the last summer –
And all I have is you
The low yellow moon
Above the lamplit house
Fields that spilled with Haiku
And dreams won over by the Tao

It’s the eternal summer now
After birth, death, self-dialogue
I stretch out on the shore
Of reincarnated beauty, transcendental love.

Photography Credits: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/MORNING-376422716

The Veins that Run from all Centuries


13

I can feel a tremendous ballad
Approaching me from within

A rising discontent, with locality
I want to live outside of time & space

Embrace dimensions where “I” does not exist
That is the trusting of Omnipotence
And the true unity of Immortality
Life sustains itself, I can forsake this body

So long as I have a means to experience
The Kingdom of Heaven, spiritual totality

I can feel a tremendous ballad
Overtaking me from without

All these Delinquent Palaces
Achieving poetic strain, at a distance
Assisted by false estimates of mortal consequence
I can feel a tremendous ballad

Between Zero and the Bone
Between Love and all other interchange.

Filling in the Blanks


Heaven, you see, is blank like an angel
Such a vast blank of silence
Filled to the brim with wonder
That it requires no labels
It’s like the purity of death

The trance that is registered
Before breath, in the genealogy
Of all cosmic cells, the flavour

Of a spring afternoon that doesn’t
Know kinsmen, but feels
How everything is related
In some indescribable unity
Heaven, you see, has no father or husband

Requires no sense of propriety
No status symbols, no possession
Heaven, you see, allows us to simply be.

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